You Ought To Remember
by GodBlessCoraCrawley
Summary: 【Cobert, & all the ships endangering them; My 1st Fic — So please Read & Review?】 While Lord Grantham has to leave for business oversea once more, Lady Grantham is left behind to take care of the Abbey. Little does Robert know that, while he is gone, his past decides to catch up with him. Oh, the Earl of Grantham surely is in for a surprise. And as fate will have it, so is Cora...
1. Chapter 1

_AN: The characters do not belong to me. This is my first story, so please bear with me. Feedback is greatly appreciated._

* * *

 **Yorkshire - April 14, 1925**

* * *

Thirteen years ago the RMS Titanic hit an iceberg off the coast of eastern Canada. Two hours and forty minutes later, the huge ship sank.

That was an odd thought and Jane couldn't really say what made her think about the Titanic in the first place. This dreadful weather, maybe?

The storm raged. Jane battled against the wind and rain as she made her way to the Abbey, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Would they hire her again? In a heartbeat? Why not…? Unless Rob- Lord Grantham had told Lady Grantham… Or anyone else for that matter. Gossip in York had been that his Lordship was out of town- and England in general, anyway. Was that good or bad?  
Golly, was she nervous!

All she could do was hope, really. Hope that Lord Grantham had not told anyone about their little fling and that they would hire her once more… because Jane Moorsum was in trouble. Deep. She had sunken **so** deep that Lord Grantham was the only solution she saw.

Nervous, soaked and chilled to her bones she finally reached the Abbey. Upon her ringing, a young woman opened the door. Judging by the maid's wide eyes, Jane must have looked terrible.

"Oh my. Hello! How can I help?"

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Jane Moorsum and I am here to see Mrs. Hughes."

"Did you—"

"Mildred! You better hurry! Lady Edith just rang again!" This was Mrs. Hughes' unmistakable accent. After this interruption, Mildred offered a quick smile before leaving the door ajar.

"There's a lady at the door for you, Mrs. Hughes."

"A lady?!"

"No, no, I mean—" But the rest of the sentence trailed off as Mildred hurried upstairs.

"Hello," Jane repeated as Mrs. Hughes finally appeared at the door. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Hughes. May I come in?"

"Jane?! My goodness!" Elsie exclaimed and her eyes lit up. "It is good to see you! What are you doing here? How is your boy? How have you been?"

"B-Before I answer all those questions, may I come in?" Jane asked again, rubbing her wet arms. What a relief it was that Mrs. Hughes seemed happy to see her.

"Oh, where are my manners! Come in from the wet! Let's go to my sitting room and I will round up some tea."

A few minutes later, when the tea was poured and the women were seated, Jane knew the following talk was inevitable.

"That should warm you up a bit. Now, how have you been and what brings you here on such a dreadful night?"

"Thank you!" Jane eagerly wrapped her cold hands around the mug and brought it to her lips to blow the steaming surface. How good this felt! "I actually did not plan on going like a bull at a gate but…" She deeply sighed and lowered her mug, giving Elsie a sad glance with those big, blue eyes. "I am here because I need work, Mrs. Hughes…"

"Well, I must admit this a surprise..." Elsie eyed the younger woman. "But a pleasant one. I was sad to see you go."

Oh, how little did Mrs. Hughes know.

"You were a good worker. I can always use the help but I will have to ask her Ladyship, of course. She has hired a new girl recently, but I will see what I can do."

"Oh," was Jane's first reaction and she failed at hiding her slight disappointment. But that was not a no. Not yet. "I've been trained well, Mrs. Hughes!" The woman nodded and clung to her tea for life. "I am a very good Lady's maid now, but I honestly wouldn't mind going back to being a housemaid either. Not if it means I'll be able to work here… This is my last chance," Jane added mysteriously.

"I'm not sure I am following?" Elsie asked, playing right into Jane's trap.

"I asked around before coming here but no one is currently in the need of a house or Lady's maid. But that's not all…" She prepared he final joker by averting her gaze, dropping it to the mug in her lap.

"Oh?"

"It's my son…," Jane whispered. "He is very, very sick." She swallowed and lifted her eyes to meet Elsie's and what she saw was very satisfying: Mrs. Hughes had bought the lie.

"Oh, no! I'm so very sorry, Jane," The housekeeper said with sympathy, her own eyes filled with sadness.

"And I need the money so they won't stop his treatment." Tears shimmered in those blue eyes, almost breaking Elsie's heart.

"I'll ask her Ladyship now. Wait here."

With quick steps Mrs. Hughes left the room...

and Jane's lips curled into a tiny, satisfied _smirk_.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: The characters do not belong to me. This is my first story, so please bear with me. Feedback is greatly appreciated._

* * *

"Telegram, My Lady."

Cora, gracefully perched up on the sofa in the library, was so absorbed in her novel - 'The Three Hostages' by John Buchan - that she didn't notice Carson until he spoke.

"Heavens!" She breathed as a dainty hand flew to her chest where she could feel her hammering heart. "You startled me, Carson!"

"I apologize, My Lady," he said in his calming baritone. "That certainly was not my intention."

"And I certainly hope so." A light chuckle escaped curled lips as she accepted the telegram. "Is it from His Lordship?"

Her eager question was met with a raise of brows. "I wouldn't know, My Lady."

"Oh." And suddenly she felt like the young Cora Levinson again, not knowing what to do or say. But who could blame her for her eagerness, really? Robert had been gone for too long and she was missing him terribly. "Of course you wouldn't, Carson." She said somewhat apologetically, offering him a warm smile. "Thank you."

Carson excused himself with a polite nod, catching the novel's title from the corner of his eyes and he couldn't help but wonder since when Her Ladyship was partial to churning stories. But then again, it was not his business to wonder. Just like it wasn't his business to wonder why this was the 3rd telegram of this sort in two weeks…

Finally alone, Cora put the book down and took a deep breath as she turned the envelope in her hand. She hadn't heard from Robert in eight days and the mere thought of him allowed her heart to skip a beat. Even after 3 decades of marriage, Robert was able to do this to her although he wasn't even around.

And she loved it.

Her fingers were just about to rip open the envelope when suddenly…

"I hate to bother you, Your Ladyship…"

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes!" Cora's gaze jumped up to find a very concerned looking housekeeper. "Is something the matter? I hope it's not a sprained ankle again?" The Countess' hands sank to her lap and with them the momentarily forgotten piece of paper.

"No… No more injuries, thank goodness!" Elsie reassured quickly and thought ' _Poor thing with the sprained ankle is paying for her clumsiness in more than one way._ '

Which was true… A certain someone had given the poor maid a nickname: Maid For Falling. …

"But I need to speak with you in regards to a staffing matter, if you have the time, of course?"

"Of course," Cora nodded and straightened her spine, suddenly curious. "What is it?"

"I am not sure if you remember, Your Ladyship, but we had a maid here during the war." Elsie began and walked a bit further into the room. "Jane Moorsum. Her husband died in the war and she had a young son. She was not with us very long. Not because she wasn't up to the mark, but due to personal reasons she had to leave our employ…" Upon hearing her own words, Mrs. Hughes frowned a little. _Yes_ , now that she thought of it, Jane's departure had been a bit odd but Elsie had never given it another thought. _Hm_. And after all those years, she really couldn't remember. Which, in Elsie's opinion, was a good sign. No scandal meant no burn mark in her memory. Hence why she quickly silenced the whisper of doubt.

"Jane Moorsum..." Cora frowned, testing the name on her tongue.

* * *

Jane Moorsum suddenly felt a pair of eyes on her back. She turned her head, only to see… "Oh, hello Mr. Barrow." His stare made her shift in her seat.

Thomas straightened up as soon as Jane's eyes found him. "Hello, Mrs Moorsum," he greeted coolly, meeting her gaze.

"How- How are you?" She asked, obviously nervous. Her hands straightened her wet skirt as she tried to smile.

"I'm good, Mrs. Moorsum. But I must ask - why have you _graced_ the Abbey with your presence?" Thomas could feel his curiosity piquing - there had to be some reason she was here, drenched in water and nervous.

 _Ugh_ \- **That** she had not missed. That way Thomas always weaseled his way into situations or the way his stare could make you squirm. When Jane had been at Downton, she had been clever enough to avoid him the best she could. But now…

Too late. "I live in York again." She cleared her throat, trying to keep eye contact. "So I figured why not work here again. After all I- I enjoyed working here a lot!"

Thomas heard her quick correction - she had something to hide, and no doubt scandalous. "Well, Mrs. Moorsum, I wish you well in your endeavors. I'm sure Lady Grantham would hire you again, seeing as you _have_ worked here before."

"Oh." Surprise colored Jane's features but the smile was sincere. "That's awfully nice of you. Thank you very much." She nodded. "I hope so, too." She paused to steal a shaky inhale, offering another smile; nervous. "I'll find out soon."

Thomas nodded once more, his trademark smile - a façade, nothing more - tugged at his lips. "I'm sure you will do fine."


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! Since this is my first fic, I really really, appreciate them!_

*Grancester = **Gran** tham/Lei **cester**

* * *

"Jane Moorsum…" Cora repeated, frowning. "I'm afraid it was too busy during the war, Mrs. Hughes. The name does ring a bell but I can't quite put a face to it. I'm sorry."

"Indeed, Your Ladyship. If my memory serves me right, I believe his Lordship approved her hire at the time. In any event Mrs. Moorsum braved this dreadful weather and is in my sitting room in need of a job. She is a trained Lady's maid now. I know we just hired young Mildred but I believe Mrs. Moorsum, although a step down, would welcome back her position as a maid. And I can always use the extra help. It is a lot to ask, I know, but Jane was a very good worker." Elsie eyed Cora with calm confidence, hoping the Countess knew she wouldn't ask for just anyone.

Cora never had been one to place her opinions higher than those of others, especially when it came to the servants and _especially_ when it came to Mrs. Hughes— or, as everyone knew, O'Brien.

 _Oh, O'Brien…_

"That is true, we just hired Mildred," Cora agreed, already feeling terrible because she indeed knew Mrs. Hughes would never bother her with such a thing if it wasn't important. "Are we really in the desperate need of another maid, Mrs. Hughes?" Beautiful blue eyes peered up at the other woman.

Elsie shifted a little on her feet. "No, Your Ladyship, we are not _desperate_. By any means. We may not be back to the numbers from before the war, but we are fine. It's simply— Jane was a great addition to the staff when she was here and well, I'd hate to see a good worker slip through our fingers if there was a way we could take them on. I just figured it didn't hurt to at least ask on the poor woman's behalf."

"And that is very kind of you, Mrs. Hughes," Cora said reassuringly and got up, finding the sensitive matter deserving of an eye-to-eye-level. "I already feel terrible enough," she admitted more to herself. "But I have to tell you no." Cora jolly well remembered the time Robert threw a tantrum when she had hired someone without consulting him first. "But I will talk it over with his Lordship once he's back. I'm afraid that's all I can offer, for now."

"Very good." Elsie understood and wasn't going to push the issue. She did her best by asking. "I thank you for your time, Your Ladyship."

Cora sighed heavily as the housekeeper left the room and allowed for her slender frame to sink back onto the sofa. She really didn't like this. Turning someone down who - and here she trusted Mrs. Hughes' word - was a good worker and dear to a person Cora respected, wasn't easy at all. Robert really needed to come home soon.

 _…_ _Robert! The telegram!_

* * *

The widely known phrase for Robert Crawley's current condition would be 'a fish out of water', however, Robert Crawley was not a man that could be correlated to the likes of a scaled entrée- regardless of the circumstances.

He had been in the land of fast talkers and slow thinkers too long already, at least for his taste, but there still was no end in sight. Good thing Lord Grantham was able to recall - on daily basis - why he was here: The Grancester Deal*.

Lord Leonard and Lady Lucille Leicester – Robert still inwardly scoffed at those names – had been living in America for generations now, but their origin was English.

Thanks to a recent death in their family, Lord Leonard inherited more money than he could spend and so, a _good friend_ of Lady Lucille had suggested to buy some land in England for a summer residence.

" _After all that's where your family springs from. And the island is very enchanting,"_ the certain friend had said and Lady Lucille loved the idea so much that she convinced her husband an hour later.

Of course, that certain friend was no other than Martha Levinson.

And now Robert was here to sell a small piece of his land for way too much money - thanks to his mother-in-law. He hadn't filled Cora in on all the details, but she surely would thank him later for securing even their grandchildren's future.

Presently, the stately man rested heavily within the confines of an overly plush, questioningly structured, armchair- _Americans_ \- that faced a large window overlooking the bustling city. A city that never seemed to quiet; a city devoid of rest, or even the most fleeting moment of calm.

New York City.

Not even under the veil of night, did the squawk of a motor horn, or a distant siren, cease.

Most evenings, Lord Grantham fell into slumber only with the aid of a well-placed pillow, and a tall glass of brandy that would surely send his beloved wife's eyes to rolling.

How he longed for his home.

With its unfettered beauty, and grand estate that overlooked the flourishing countryside.

With its blanketing of emerald pastures, and decadent framing of woodlands.

But, above all else, how he longed for _her._

Robert's barrel chest deflated in a lengthy sigh, as his steel-tone eyes peered out the glass at a mockingly bright, mid-afternoon, sky.

"Oh, my darling, how terribly I miss you."

The words were but a sonorous murmur below his breath, but they were enough to prompt a broad hand to rub over his knee in an absently anxious manner. In his other palm, the guiding right, Robert's digits slackened around a pen, allowing the ball point to slide aimlessly down the unmarked paper, leaving behind a thin streak of black ink.

Days had long since passed, and he hadn't managed to produce a single letter; the only evidence of his attempts being the fresh bolt of onyx currently bleeding out against the sheet of sheered wood. He knew Cora would not be pleased.

Another sigh escaped his chiseled lips as he abandoned the unfulfilled attempt, again, and settled back in the seat once more, granting his eyelids the liberty to close, and his body to relax.

All the while, his mind wandered home, to thoughts of her.

Tomorrow, he would write.

Tomorrow.

* * *

"Oh, Robert, how terribly I miss you." Cora sighed before her skilled fingers quickly ripped open the envelope. A telegram? No. A letter!

'My dearest Cora,' she read and her cheeks immediately flushed. **_Oh_**. With a sharp inhale she closed the letter and put it back into the envelope. This was the _third_ letter in two weeks and so far she had resisted the temptation to read a single one of them.

"Simon Bricker," Cora whispered, "You really need to stop this."


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: I am very thankful for all the reviews and I'd love to know what you think of this rather long chapter! Thank you!_

 _* **Van Wijnbergen** belongs to Dutch nobility since 1822 (until today)_

* * *

"Ah, Jane, have you warmed up a bit?" Mrs. Hughes asked with her thick accent and a fond smile as she entered the sitting room, closing the door behind her.

Jane had always liked the accent. She smiled. "Yes, thank you kindly!" And as if to underline her statement, she downed the rest of her tea.

"Would you… like something to eat?" Elsie stalled.

"I fear I'm quite too nervous to eat." Big blue eyes stared expectantly. _Oh, please, please, please._

"Ah, yes, well…" Elsie sat down as well, wringing her hands in her lap. "Her Ladyship was most kind in her sympathies, however, we cannot take anyone on at this time."

Jane's face fell. "Oh."

"As I said earlier, we just hired a new girl and, well, her Ladyship feels we are at full staff for the moment."

"It's quite alright." Jane said although it obviously was not alright at all. Despite the sudden tears in her eyes, the petite brunette managed to offer a smile. "I'm very thankful you asked, Mrs. Hughes!"

Truth be told, Jane was devastated. She **had to** get her job back. Yes, not just **a** job, **the** job. After all, that was the deal…

* * *

She really couldn't say how long she had been staring at Simon Bricker's letter in her hand.

 _This stupid, stupid letter._

With one of the most frustrated sighs ever fallen from those luscious lips, Cora finally rose to her graceful height and walked over the fireplace, determined to burn this piece of… paper.

But then she suddenly paused, her eyes glued to the fire.

She could feel the warmth caressing her skin and for a brief moment, the Countess of Grantham closed her eyes, imagining her Earl right behind her and how his strong arms would wrap around her waist when no one was watching.

 _Oh, Robert._

The sigh now escaping her lips was much softer, almost longing. **Almost?** Who was she kidding? With a small smile, amused about herself, Cora shook her head and opened her eyes. Maybe she shouldn't burn this letter. Maybe she should read it while Robert was still away. This way he couldn't get angry and she could tell Bricker to back off a step… or 25.

"Yes, that's a plan." She murmured, turned around and walked over to the desk. Once the letter was securely hidden within the left drawer, Cora felt lighter already.

It was time to go to bed while those thoughts of Robert were still _oh so_ vivid in her mind.

* * *

Mrs. Hughes observed the woman in front of her and she could swear, behind those deep blue eyes, she had seen a whole world tumble down… And it broke her heart. "But…" Elsie heard herself say before she could stop it.

At that, Jane's eyes jumped back up, suddenly glued to the housekeeper's with unabashed, shimmering hope in them. "But…?"

Mrs. Hughes bit her tongue, knowing there was no way back now. _Flip!_ "But her Ladyship also let on that this isn't her final decision."

"I- I don't understand." Jane lied, knowing very well that Lord Grantham's absence might be the reason.

"You see, his Lordship is away on business. Once he is back, the decision will be made."

 _Oh, this is not good. Not good at all,_ Jane thought, but this time she was able to control her face. However, she couldn't help the sudden paleness as it dawned upon her what she had to do if Lord Grantham refused her employment. _No. Please god, no._ "Oh, then I shall hope he remembers me…" She finally said and only then realized how stupid this must've sounded.

Mrs. Hughes however, did not seem to notice. She was busy figuring out a way to lift some of the woman's weight off her shoulders. "I can't make any promises, Jane, but I dare say it doesn't look too bad for you. I'm sure we will find you a spot. Not as lady's maid, maybe…"

"Oh, that would be just fine!" Jane jumped in, no longer lost in thoughts. "The last five years I was working for a widow, Lady Van Wijnbergen*."

At that foreign name, Elsie's brows rose. "That doesn't sound very English?"

"No," Jane agreed. "Lady Van Wijnbergen—" It really did sound funny when she pronounced that name in her best Dutch accent. "—married into the Dutch Nobility but came back here when her husband died. She hired me as her new housemaid and a year later she gave her lady's maid the sack- for good reasons. I was relieved but from that moment on I had to do both jobs."

"Both? My, what work!"

"Yes, it was a lot at first but she trained me well and was very, very patient. I believe she liked to think of me as her new project. I didn't mind. After all I was the only one keeping her rather entertained with my first failed attempts at doing her hair or trying to learn a few words of Dutch." Those memories of old Lady Van Wijnberg looking like a poodle suddenly made Jane chuckle and she surprised herself. It was a sound she hadn't heard in a while… "She was very kind."

Elsie frowned a little. "And why did you leave her? Or did she- pass away?"

"Oh, no, no. She is still alive." Jane said a little too fast, finding herself in the dilemma of what lie to choose. _Think, think, think!_ "I left because— I had to leave… because, when my son got sick, they transferred him to London. Working here or near York would be closer to him and probably better paid…" With the last words Jane averted her gaze to the now cold mug in her hands. _Yes, that could work._ She had to be careful with those lies. _You ought to remember._

"I'm very sorry, Jane…" Elsie sighed as she finally spoke again and decided to not pry any further. "But that double burden surely must have made for a good reference?"

"Thank you." The former maid murmured before lifting her head, nodding. "Yes. She gave me an excellent reference."

"Oh, I am happy to hear that. Do you have it with you?"

"Of course— Here!" She quickly pulled out the slightly damp piece of paper and handed it over to Mrs. Hughes.

"Thank you." Elsie nodded as she took it. "I will show it to Lord and Lady Grantham. I am sure it will help a great deal."

That was Jane's sign to get up and wrap herself back into her wet coat. _Yuck._ "I am very grateful, Mrs. Hughes. And equally sorry for barging in without notice."

"Oh, don't be!" Elsie waved her off. "Come back in a few days when the weather is nicer. Maybe I will have news by then."

"That sounds like a plan!"

Both women shared a kind smile and polite nod as departing gesture before Elsie watched the younger woman leave her room. _What a poor dear._

 _-x-_

Jane was already reaching for the doorknob, ready for the storm and rain to cover up her swelling tears, when an unexpected voice from behind slightly startled her.

"Mrs. Moorsum?" It was a male voice, barely above a whisper.

She swiveled around and quickly wiped her eyes. "Oh, Mr. Barrow."

"Are you… quite alright, Mrs. Moorsum?"

But all Jane could do was look at him. Her eyes were telling him all he needed to know.

"No luck so far?" He asked and when she nodded, he added: "Please accept my apologies. Let me walk you out."

"That's very kind of you." Jane found herself surprised once more by Barrow's **friendly** attitude. "But you really don't have to. You'll get all wet and—"

"I insist."

And indeed he did. His hand flew to her arm and he gently forced her to walk outside. The storm hit them full force, causing Jane to stumble a bit.

"This way." Barrow pulled her along, around the corner, to his and O'Brien's smoking place. There, they were not only shielded from the wind but also from prying eyes.

* * *

"That's a bit rummy…." Mrs. Hughes said out loud, catching Mr. Carson's attention who had just been walking by her room. … For the 5th time in a row.

A second later he peeked inside. Whatever task he had could wait. "What's rummy?"

Elsie's gaze lifted to meet his eyes and the smallest of smiles graced her lips. Sometimes she felt the childish urge to ask him to read a story to her, just so she could listen to his voice for hours. Suppressing the sigh those thoughts elicited, she cleared her throat instead and held Jane's reference out to him. "This."

Carson frowned but stepped inside, accepting the piece of paper. Once he read the name, it took him a second to remember but when he did… _Oh,_ but when he did, he had trouble keeping his craggy features bold. … "What's so weird about it?" He asked a minute later. "This is by far the best reference I have ever read. And in light of the fact that this is Jane Moorsum's reference, I am not surprised. She was a good worker. A little too good for my taste."

"What do you mean?" Elsie frowned, momentarily distracted from her own question.

"Hm?" Carson raised his brows before shaking his head. "Oh, nothing, nothing. She was very caring, is all. Now, what's caught your attention, Mrs. Hughes? She wants to come back here, I suppose?"

"Yes," Elsie nodded and quickly filled him in on the details, all the while wondering what he was thinking. "But here, the date: Signed 14th November 1924. That was— **half** a year ago? That's a long time."

"Didn't you say her son is very sick?"

"Yes. Hm. … That must be it, I suppose."

"I suppose so, too." Carson said reassuringly and eyed her. How to put his next words? … "What did Her Ladyship say?"

"She wants to discuss it with His Lordship first."

"Oh, that's good." Carson said a bit too fast. What was wrong with him today? … Ah, yes. It was the secret power of Elsie Hughes who always seemed to throw him off his game. God bless her.

"Mr. Carson." Elsie narrowed her eyes. "You are acting a bit rummy, too!"

"Why, me? Never!" It was one of those very rare moments in which Mr. Carson actually smiled and Mrs. Hughes? Well, Mrs. Hughes almost melted.

"Get out, you cheeky devil!"

* * *

"What do you **want** , Mr. Barrow?!" Jane finally tore her arm from his grip.

"No, no, Mrs. Moorsum." His lips curled into a knowing smirk as he looked down on her. "The question is: What do **you** want?"

"I don't… understand?"

"Oh, but I think you do. … You want your old job back?"

 _Again with his smirk. Ugh_. Jane's stomach slowly turned. "Yes."

"Badly?"

"Yes."

"How badly?"

"Mr. Barrow, I…"

"What if **I**... could get you a job? Here?"

Jane swallowed. Big blue eyes stared up at him. An inner battle raged inside of her, the equivalent to the storm outside. "What's it to you…?" She finally asked and sounded way shyer than she wanted.

Thomas' smirk switched into a rather charming, but cold smile. "You seem like a nice lady and **_I_** am not one to turn down someone in need."

The way he could send a shiver down her spine with only a few words was unique. Was he really alluding to Lady Grantham? _Oh my._ … _But,_ Jane thought, _he is right._ She **was** in need. In desperate need. And she'd do… **a lot** to avoid playing her joker. She really did not want to do this to Lord Grantham. "If there is anything you can do, I'd very much appreciate it." She said and shivered, wondering how he could look so… unaffected. _Like the eye of the storm_ , she thought.

"I assure you, Mrs. Moorsum," he said with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, "I can secure you a place in Downton Abbey."

"How?" The question slipped from her lips before she could halt herself, and upon hearing it, she wasn't even sure she wanted to know the answer.

" **Trust me** , I have my ways."

Truth be told, Jane had no idea what was going on. She wasn't sure of anything in this moment, but **one** thing: **Trusting** Thomas Barrow was not foreseen in her future.

"What am I to do? Just… wait?" She asked, rubbing her arms.

"Have faith, Mrs. Moorsum. Have **faith**."

Again, that shiver. All she wanted was to leave. "I will be back in a few days." The silent decision that's been made here was one she regretted almost immediately. But beggars can't be choosers.

"I will be in touch, Mrs. Moorsum." Thomas said and offered a final nod.

Jane mirrored the gesture and immediately turned on her heels. _Out, out_. Gone. Away. She was actually relieved when she finally left the Abbey behind her.

Little did Jane Moorsum know that she had just accepted a dance with the devil.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Putting the *comments into footnotes now. I like to do my research ;) - I hope you like this chapter (and the bickering)._ _Each Chapter has its own Teaser/Cover picture. Check them out on Tumblr. This one even shows the face of the new character I wrote in._ _Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading/reviewing!_

* * *

 **Yorkshire - April 15, 1925**

* * *

"Mama?!" Edith asked incredulously as she entered the room.

"Are you ill?" Mary added and Cora was sure if her daughter's eyebrows weren't attached to her head, they'd hit the ceiling.

"Ill? Why– What is this fuss about?" Lady Grantham asked, obviously confused.

"You're down for breakfast–" Edith began but Mary jumped in.  
"–before anyone else! That's… unusual."  
"That's one word for it," Edith agreed.

The girls sat down and stared at her mother as if she were an extraterrestrial.

"Fine." Cora sighed and put her knife down. She wasn't hungry anyway. "Your father is a terrible, terrible man."

"What, why?" Edith's eyes grew wide whilst Mary simply rolled her dark ones.

"What has he done now?" The brunette daughter inquired. "And how even? He's an ocean away."

"Nothing," Cora murmured and her lips curled into a sad pucker.

"Nothing?" The girls asked in unison.

"Exactly. He has done _nothing_! It's been 9 days since I last heard from him. Nine!"

"Oh, Mama," Mary reassured as she finally understood, "I am sure he is fine!"

Edith nodded.

"Well, I jolly well hope so. ... Ugh, I had a terrible nightmare." Cora's blue eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm sure you needn't worry, Mama." The blonde tried but earned herself yet another roll of eyes from her sister.

"At least that explains why you're down so early." Mary observed.

"Yes," Cora nodded, "I simply couldn't stay in my room a second longer. I already wrote a letter to your father this morning and gave it to Carson."

"Wait a minute–" Edith suddenly frowned, "If Papa didn't write to you for nine days,... then who was yesterday's letter from?"

 _Oh._ "Simon Bricker," Cora blushed and quickly looked down, picking up her knife again. Could nothing in this house go unnoticed? "He… wanted to express his gratitude that we allowed him to see the Della Francesca before selling it…" It was a lie, of course, but she hoped the girls would buy it.  
 _That stupid letter._ It had been the third ** _!_** letter from Bricker and Cora knew she should burn it like the others. She didn't read a single one. So far. But right now the letter was still resting in the desk drawer… She mustn't forget to burn it before anyone could read it.  
 _You ought to remember!_ Cora silently reminded herself.

* * *

 **Manchester - April 15, 1925**

* * *

The ringing of the telephone enlivened the silence of the pretentious house in Manchester, cutting the warm morning air. It was a sunny April's day. The sound of river Irwell flowing faded into the background and the woman sitting on the veranda looked up from her sewing. Blue eyes scanned the beautiful garden but Lady Catherine Mandeville - and the umbrella, her trademark - were nowhere to be seen. And Lord knew Catherine Mandeville was impossible to miss. She was a sight to behold. Striking, conspicuous. Her stunning blue eyes stood in stark contrast to her porcelain skin and her fiery red mane radiated from miles away.

The ringing stopped, an indicator that Rivière, the French butler, had answered the call.

But where was her Ladyship? With a hawk-like stare, she scanned the piece of land once more and immediately got up the very second she heard Rivière's footsteps approaching.

"It-is for you." The butler said with his thick French accent as he appeared in the door, obviously reluctant to step out into the mild spring heat.

"For me?" The woman asked and surprise colored her features.

"Did-I stuttèr?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. _Frogeater_. "I don't know who'd telephone me, is all."

"The callèr asked for a Miss Sarah O'Brién. Last time I checked, c'était toi."

"Thank you, River." O'Brien replied, equally determined to ignore the correct pronunciation of his last name. Tit for tat. "I'll get it now."

A few seconds later, she entered the house. Her warm cheeks welcomed the parky atmosphere as she hurried over to the telephone. The sound of her heels announced her way before she picked up the receiver.

 _Click clack click clack._

"Hello?"

* * *

 **-x-**

* * *

"Oh, I see. The Della Francesca again," Edith murmured and Cora was quick to change the topic.

"I wonder what's taking your father so long?! It's a déjà vu! It feels like a second Teapot Dome Scandal."

"What _**exactly**_ is he doing oversea again anyway?" Mary inquired, eyeing her mother while bringing the toast to her lips.

"If only I knew," Cora sighed and shook her head. "He was rather reluctant to fill me in on the details. My mother wrote to me, saying this is a deal no man in his right mind would turn down."

"Oooh, heavens." Mary sighed. "Papa and investments…"

"I am quite certain he learned from his mistakes." Edith rose to speak before Cora could interfere.

"Yes, you should know… Because you are such an expert when it comes to learning from your own mistakes." Mary fired back before she sank her teeth into her crispy toast.

Edith narrowed her eyes. "Oh, please. It's not me who is holding the _lovers' death rate record_ in this house."

Cora almost choked on her tea. "Edith!"

Now it was Mary's turn to narrow her eyes before her chin rose. Cora knew that look. She saw how her daughter's lips parted to fire yet another shot.

"Enough!" The countess commanded and put her mug down. "The one time I decide to enjoy breakfast with my daughters, you manage to make me regret that decision. Are you done now?"

The younger ladies shared a glance, murmured their apologies and fell silent.

* * *

 **-x-**

* * *

"Miss Sarah O'Brien?" A male voice asked. It was a voice Sarah had not heard before. Or had she?

"This is her speaking. What can I do for you?"

"A lot." The voice said and O'Brien could swear she heard the man smirk. "But first, let me ask you three simple questions."

 _No_ , now she was sure, she had not heard this voice before, hence why she had no idea who was on the other end of the line. And, to make matters worse, the voice sounded somehow muffled.

"Who do I have the honor of talking to?" O'Brien asked bluntly and yet she made sure to not overdo her chilly tone. You never knew…

"The name does not matter." The stranger replied cryptically.

"Then I don't see a reason as to why I should answer a single one of your questions."

"The reason will reveal itself within the last question. They are simple. If you find me a liar, you will be free to ring off."

 _He is clever,_ O'Brien thought. _Giving me the decisive power_. She was intrigued, of course, but he was talking way too fast to allow another interference.

"First: Is it correct that you are now working for Lady Catherine Mandeville?"

Lady Catherine Mandeville - the woman everyone secretly called _The Red Sin_.

"Yes," she heard herself say. "That is correct."

The stranger hummed. He sounded satisfied with her reply. "And is it correct that you stopped working for Governor Isaacs' wife ***** , because she suffers from a chronic physical disability and is now in need of constant medical assistance? She recommended you to Lady Mandeville?"

 _Why does he know all this?_ , O'Brien silently questioned, but aloud she said: "Lady Isaacs, The Marchioness of Reading, was already ill when she hired me but it got worse over the past months. Once it was decided that the Governor would leave the office and therefor British-India, Lady Isaacs recommended me to Lady Mandeville, who I started working for in February."

"Correct." The male voice said. "The Governor has decided to leave office next year."

O'Brien's employment career wasn't exactly a secret but it had never happened before that someone was **that** well informed. Especially someone faceless. He was testing her patience. "Your third question."

"That's right. My third question." Again, the stranger's smirk was audible. He lowered his voice until it was barely above a whisper. "Tell me, Miss Sarah O'Brien, what would you be willing to do for…"

* * *

 **-x-**

* * *

Mary decided to break the awkward silence after a while: "If you worry so much about Papa, why don't you let me write to Tom? I'm sure he wouldn't mind to go and see what our beloved father is doing?"

"Oh, Mary!" Cora's eyes lit up. "That is a splendid idea! Are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

"I'm positive. Just in his last letter he stated that he misses us greatly – even Papa. Needless to say I was mightily amused."

"In his last letter?" Cora asked, raising her brows. "When did it arrive?"

"Yesterday!" Edith blurted out, causing for Mary to throw a glare her way.

"Are you working as a postman now?" She hissed.

Now it was Cora's turn to slightly narrow her eyes, but not because she was glaring – oh no. Because she was observing. Was Mary blushing?! "Yes, dear, please do write him. Maybe with Tom's help the whole ordeal will speed up a little. And I know your father would love to see Sybbie."

The girls nodded. Everyone knew how much Robert loved his grandchild.

"But I really need to know when _**exactly**_ he will be back." Lady Grantham announced and leaned back in her chair.

"But why?" Edith frowned. "Do we have plans?"

" _ **I**_ do," Cora admitted and eyed both daughters before her lips curled into an excited, rare smile. "I want to surprise him with a new puppy."

"Oh, he will be so pleased, Mama!"

"I agree," Mary nodded. "I'm sure he will love the surprise. As we all know he loved Isis more than us." She glanced at Edith. "Or some of us."

"Don't exaggerate, Mary!" Cora warned and quickly glanced at Edith, too, to check if Mary's comment offended her but the blonde chuckled. _Phew, good._

"Everyone knows it's true, Mama," Mary continued to tease and got up. "I must be off already. I have a meeting in Ripon I must attend, so you don't have to wait with luncheon. I'll see you both at dinner." And after a kiss to her mother's cheek, Mary was gone.

* * *

 **-x-**

* * *

O'Brien almost dropped the receiver. "That's— enough for me to retire early and live a good life?!" She blinked. _A neat sum of money_.

"I'm well aware." The stranger said. "So, what would you be willing to do for it?"

She hesitated. _Psh, who am I kidding?_ "A lot." It was a careful reply. After all she still had no idea who she was talking to.

"Fair enough." The voice said. "Tomorrow morning, at the Manchester Opera House. Be there at 5am."

Before she could reply, O'Brien heard a click and then— static noise. "… Hello?"

Slowly, she lowered the telephone and stared at it until Lady Mandeville's velvety voice was calling her name. "O'Brien?"

 _Tomorrow morning at five._

Well, at least Sarah knew one thing: She would not get much sleep tonight.

"Coming!"

* * *

 **-x-**

* * *

"Hm," Cora hummed, lost in thoughts for a second before she shifted her gaze to the blonde. "And you? Not going to London today?"

"No. I have an appointment in York."

 _York?_ "Oh, that reminds me… Mrs. Hughes told me a certain Mrs. Jane Moorsum is currently staying in York. Do you know her?" Cora asked and turned her head to look at Edith.

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Well, apparently she worked for us during and after the war but had to leave due to personal reasons? Now she is back and in the need of work."

"Is there more to it?"

"I don't know," Cora shrugged before tilting her head. "Yes, I guess so. Mrs. Hughes thinks highly of her and I felt terrible for turning her down."

"Because we are not in the need of more staff," Edith concluded and thought for a second. "But you would like to help?"

"If you had seen Mrs. Hughes' face, you'd like to help as well." The memory made Cora sigh once more before she straightened her spine. "Yes, I plan on employing Mrs. Moorsum again. I just don't know how yet."

"I'll think about it, too."

"Thank you, darling," Cora smiled and she finally felt her appetite waking, the nightmare almost forgotten.

... The calm before the storm.

* * *

 _ ***** According to Mrs Hughes, by 1924, Miss O'Brien had been employed by the new Governor's wife in India._

 _Mrs. Hughes: "I worried about her ladyship having to face the traitor, but Miss O'Brien's got herself taken on by the new Governor's wife." (5x08)_

 _Rufus Daniel Isaacs, 1st Marquess of Reading was the Viceroy and Governor-General of India. In office: 2 April 1921 – 3 April 1926. In 1887 he married Alice Edith Cohen, who suffered from a chronic physical disability and died of cancer in 1927._


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Lots of Cobert fluff (thanks to my wonderful RP partner on Twitter) for all the Cobert lovers! I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

" _'Oh Cora, do I really have to wear this? Oh Cora, must I wear the one with the stiff collar?'_ " She mimicked Robert, pulling a face.

"I will admit, you do pose a point; however, the true question is: Do I wear the clothes, or do I not?" He looked at her, slightly lifting a brow.

"Oh, that is far from the point, my dear husband." Cora pursed her lips in order to hide her amusement.

"Is that so?" Robert feigned innocence. "Well, what else have I to do while you knit your afternoons away?"

At that, she possibly could not hold back an amused scoff. _Knit! Ha_. "Knitting my afternoons away..." She repeated, softly shaking her head. Oh, yes. She _loved_ to knit her afternoons away. Funny though that, in the last 34 years, she had not managed to finish a single hat.

He extended a gentile hand, light eyes twinkling in quite the telling manner. "You know I don't mind it." He allowed a becoming grin to spread across his lips. "Now, were you going to aid me with my tie, or shall I call on Bates?" Somehow, the question seemed to beg another, with a dash less innocence.

Cora's sparkling blue eyes seemed to sparkle even more upon hearing Robert's request. _Oh,_ how she missed him… "Let me have a closer look." She finally said, lowered her book and lifted her fine body to walk over to him, only briefly placing her hand into his. "Hm, I think-" She began, showing utter self-control by _not_ stepping into Robert's personal space as she reached for the tie, "-I can manage. Hold still."

The very moment she was close enough to touch, he did. The same outstretched palm rose to curl a few masculine fingers, in order to traipse over the woman's unforgettably soft cheek. "Holding still was not a part of the agreement," For a moment Lord Grantham seemed to pause there but, after another second of surveying those beloved features, he finished in a husky undertone. "my love."

She had tried to ignore his hand when she walked over but now- impossible. His touch made it hard to concentrate and she found her eyes wandering to lock with his. The mere touch of his hand made her want to lean into it, close her eyes and allow him to guide her but _no_. She leaned into his touch _just a tad_ , smiling up at him. "You couldn't even hold still if your life depended on it." She softly teased, trying to hide the fact that she inwardly was indeed melting. 'My love'. _Oh_.

"As if you would allow me the leisure." Robert's words were all kindness and warmth, and so his caress seamlessly followed suit.

"Oh, **_I_** would." She said without a second of hesitation and was evenly quick to avoid her gaze back to the tie. "At least when it comes to the stiff collars."

A soft chortle vibrated off of Lord Grantham's lips as he rose his digits in order to dust a wayward lock of dark hair from her smooth forehead. "Of that, I am not so convinced." Before Cora could retort, he supplied: "Nor am I complaining.

"I'm your wife, Robert." Her soft voice held a shade of gentle scolding. "You are supposed to believe whatever I say." The tie had long been fixed but Cora gave it a final nudge before she dropped her hands. "There."

All the while she'd been attending to his garment, Robert's eyes had been observing her delicate features: The down turned lashes that stood in such stark contrast to her porcelain skin, the subtle round of her nose, the way her brow creased just so. _Oh_ , how he adored her. "And, if I may, you are quite convincing." He replied with a deep rumble of a chuckle, while supplying his tie with a thorough once over in the mirror. "What ever would I do without you..." The man murmured absentmindedly before the room seemed to shudder at the edges, a product of wide windows and heady thunder.

Something shifted. It made Cora frown before she glanced at the window, right before turning back to her husband. "Without me, you'd ask Bates." The simplicity and truth in her answer amused her, but this time she managed to bite back a chuckle. Her luscious lips simply curled into a tiny smile instead.

"Well," _That smile- that perfect, prim, little grin_ \- marked the demise of his self-restraint. In a sweeping movement, the Lord's strong arms encircled Cora's thin waist and he employed his broad fingers to coax her against him. "Who am I to deny the truth?" He taunted with another rumbling chortle while his eyes were fixed on his wife's glittering, sapphire, spheres.

Cora could do naught but gasp. Her hands came to rest flat against his chest and the first thing she did was to throw a glance over her shoulder. It wouldn't be the first or second (or third or…) time if Bates walked in on them now. Not that Cora minded it **_that_** much. "Robert…"

With thoughts traveling down a parallel path, Lord Grantham brushed a broad thumb over his wife's delicate spine in a soothing manner, before murmuring: "There are no eyes to pry, darling." Another warm brush. "I gave the staff the evening off." He announced with an appropriately sly, and yet charmingly humble grin.

"You-" Her head swiveled back around and she stared up at him, blinking. "You did not!"

The stately man's dark brows rose. A reaction he'd expected, though perhaps not quite of this caliber. "I did." He responded, gaze meeting the dainty female's while his hand stilled. "Were you unaware of the carnival tonight?" A deep crease appeared between Robert's eyebrows, making his newfound hesitation glaringly apparent. "If it concerns you so, I'm almost certain that Carson remained behind. I can make my way down to find out?" Though the words were fed to the air, Robert made no move to depart, clearly waiting for her Ladyship's direction.

Now it was Cora's turn to frown. Carnival? "I must have forgotten..." She admitted but felt as though this detail didn't matter. She mentally pushed it aside and remained silent as her gaze shifted from confused to jaunty. "Don't you dare get Carson…"

And, just like that, the furrow draped across Robert's brow was replaced by an expression of amusement and desire. "Whatever you wish, my dearest one." His digit returned to sweeping broad strokes across his woman's lower back, while their bodies seemed to effortlessly form to one another.

Visibly more relaxed, Cora sighed and melted against her husband's form. Her lips briefly brushed his before she nestled her head right under his chin. Her cheek rested against his torso and she quietly inhaled his scent while her own thumb began to draw a caressing pattern on his chest.

Though Lord Grantham would have very much liked to have prolonged the little kiss, he respected his place as husband- and gentleman, by allowing the display to end with a smile of contentment and a low hum. "Hmm." The vibration caused his chest to vibrate beneath Cora's fingers and now, that that enticing face was beyond his sight, he allowed his lids to fall shut. Slowly, gracefully (which is lightly surprising for a man of his stature), Robert used his hold on her back and Lady Grantham's weight against his chest, to begin to sway the pair in place, agilely creating their own rhythm.

To say his movement mildly surprised her would be the understatement of the year. As soon as she understood what he was doing, Cora's brows flew high but she resisted the urge to look up at him in order to not break their embrace. She even found herself questioning his soberness for a split second but her stomach flipped nevertheless. "Oh, Robert…" She sighed against him and lifted her chin to brush her nose along his neck.

The stroke of her nose caused the man to momentarily lose their rhythm, knees stalling, while his breath caught. Suddenly, it was as if Robert could pinpoint the very moment he had fallen into love with her, and he finds himself reliving it all over again: The heavy swallow that made his Adam's Apple bob, the pulse of his eager heart firing in his ears and the heat that spread in each and every place her skin touches. "Heavens, have I missed you."

And _oh,_ how her heart ached at his words. She could feel all the longing she had experienced for weeks now, at once. It made her swallow hard and she finally lifted her head. As soon as their eyes met again, they stopped their dance and Cora's eyes told him all he needed to know. No word in the world could ever express what she felt for him. It was an all-consuming love, a feeling she wanted to express in this very moment. And so, she leaned in and allowed for her lips to melt with his.

How wonderful it all felt; her hand at his chest, her small form against his large, her lips upon his... It took only a millisecond for Robert to react, and then, he responded to the kiss with a gentle fervor. His generous palm skirted its way further up his Lady's spine, urging her closer to him, until, as his chest expanded, hers deflated, in quite the pleasurable rhythm.

Cora melted in his embrace of arms and lips. She allowed him to kiss her in a way they only did behind closed doors. _Or in dreams_. A low hum made her own mouth vibrate against his before her right hand slowly glided up until her fingertips dipped past his hairline.

As those delicate fingers worked their way up into the base of his hairline, Robert sensed that his gentlemanly tendencies may quickly fall victim to a decline, were they not careful. "Cora." The man mumbled as their kiss broke, voice appealingly hoarse and husky. Meanwhile, those large palms of his pressed greedily against her middle back, and shoulder blade, clearly displaying that he would not be averse to prolonging this encounter.

"Robert…" She teased him, knowing very well what he wanted to articulate but, as ever so often, words failed him, especially when she leaned in to ghost kisses along his jaw while her fingernails softly made their way through his hair to the back of his head...

Now, it was Robert's place to reciprocate the movement and he found his fingertips sliding to find purchase against the sensitive nape of her neck. Here, he ghosted wide, somewhat erratic, swirls against her skin. The man's strong neck stretched upward as her supple, but petite, lips travelled along his square jawline. "Am I to take this to mean," The male rumbled, voice baritone. "that the dressing room will remain uninhabited this evening?"

His question made her smile in amusement. As if she would send him to sleep in the dressing room tonight… Cora stilled her movement and her lips hovered next to his ear while she contemplated. Should or shouldn't she? _Oh, what gives…_ "Yes." She whispered, knowing her breath tickled his ear. "Yes it will…" And then, without warning, she leaned in and took his sensitive earlobe between her incisors while inhaling his scent. _This should do…_

At the seizure of flesh and teeth, Lord Grantham expelled a rugged growl, not unlike the grunt of an enamored lion, and that was the last of his cavalier composure. In the heat of the moment, and the one thereafter, Robert used his hold on his beauty to urge her backward, towards the edge of the bed. The sizable tips of his digits pressed earnestly against her garments while his cheek nimbly pushed hers aside in order for him to press his lips to the hollow of her shoulder- or what was exposed of it, before trailing upward, along that thin, lovely, neck, coveting more and more territory.

 ** _Knock knock knock._**

Cora woke with a start, realizing too late that her beloved husband already slipped from her fingers, just like the book she had been reading before she fell asleep. This realization almost made her groan in frustration and she slowly stretched her spine, sitting up. The book which had previously been resting on in her lap hit the floor with a thump. Cora frowned. _Wait._ What had woken her?

And then she heard it again.

 _Knock knock knock._

 _Oh_. With a quick move the book was back in her hand and Lady Grantham settled as if nothing had happened. … Which, sadly, really hadn't.

"Yes?"

"Your Ladyship, may I come in? There is something I must ask," Thomas announced, his tone smooth and calm. He had never hesitated or deviated once as he made his way up to the chambers of Lady Grantham, his hands clasped behind his back, face impassive. He was already running the ideas and words over in his mind, planning it all rather meticulously.

The door muffled is voice but Cora immediately recognized the voice. "Barrow?" She exclaimed surprised but put her book down nonetheless. "Of course, do come in." Once the man opened the door, she was quick to ask: "Is something the matter?"

He closed the door behind him as he stepped inside, knowing he had to play the upcoming part well. He cleared his throat… and so it began. "No, … No, nothing is the matter." He finally answered and slowly walked over to her. Keeping a respectable distance, he stopped next to her vanity, shifting from one foot to the other, feigning nervousness.

Cora took the bait. "You look rather concerned." She observed and tilted her head. "Surely you came for a reason. What is it?"

"I'm just worried, Milady… About Mrs. Moorsum," Thomas finally said, worry and concern flooding his tone as he clasped his hands on his back.

Cora's lips parted to ask how he knew about this but then she remembered this was Thomas Barrow she was talking to. Lord knows this man knew more than she did, Cora was sure of that. "And why is that?" She asked instead, unable to hide her surprise in those blazing blue eyes.

Thomas' legs were now touching the back of the vanity, his hands still clasped behind his back. "She has no _work_ , Milady. I'm worried for her welfare, mainly." Thomas slowly reached, subtly swiped up a piece of jewelry and hid it into his hand fluidly. An ability that _obviously_ had years to perfect.

Cora was not exactly known for having a sharp eye when it came to things happening right in front of her. No, quite the opposite in fact: Naive, with a good heart. However, as she had proven before, she did not appreciate it when certain staff members, including Thomas - or should she say _especially_ Thomas, forgot their place. "I wasn't aware you and Mrs. Moorsum were that close?" She said with a raise of brows, dusting down possible grey areas just in case...

Thomas felt his stomach coil with disgust at the possible implication of her words. He gripped the jewelry tighter, composing himself. "I'm merely worried, Lady Grantham. She is jobless with a son, that can't be easy for her."

Cora's gentle stare turned into a frown, wondering if she had offended Thomas in any way. Oblivious to her very own implication, she shrugged it off and sighed. "I already feel awful enough as it is, Barrow." She admitted and lifted her gaze to meet Thomas' eyes. She indeed hated it to be put in the position of the decision maker, _especially_ when it was not her decision to make. "I already informed Mrs. Hughes that I will wait for his Lordship's return in order to make a proper decision. It can't be long now. But that is all I can say."

"Of course, Milady." Barrow said, suddenly sounding curiously apologetic. "I am sorry to have bothered you."

"Yes," Cora could hear herself say before she was able to hold it back. Thomas had overstepped a line and put her into a position in which she felt obliged to explain herself. It angered her because it made her feel like the weakest link. "Your concern about your friend is honorable but just because his Lordship is out of town does not allow you to forget your place"

"Of course, Milady." The man whispered before suddenly his left hand flew to his mouth, covering it as if to choke back a sob. "I am very sorry." He added with a shaky voice. "I am just terribly worried. She is a dear friend."

Damn, he was good.

Naturally, this caught Cora off guard. Her stare softened. "Let us forget about this." A sigh slipped past her lips. "Know that your words and courage only solidified my decision to hire her again."

 **-x-**

When Thomas finally stepped out of Lady Grantham's room, a rather satisfied smile ghosted across his features. But _oh_ , he was far from being done. On the contrary: He was just getting started. He walked down the corridor and looked around before slowly opening the door to Lady Edith's room, knowing well she was gone. Listening in on their breakfast chatter this morning was about to pay off.

 _Oh, what a feast!_

* * *

 **-x-**

* * *

She sat on one of the benches overlooking the beautiful landscape of Downton Abbey. It was one of her favorite spots, because from here on out it was all Crawley property, as far as the eye could see. It had been a rather warm day and the sun was finally setting, bathing everything in a golden glow. A smile graced her beautiful features and she couldn't help to hum a soft tune before she tore her gaze away and refocused on the inchoate letter in her lap.

 _I miss you, too_ , She wrote. _Terribly! I often find myself wishing…_

"Oh, I bet you do." An unexpected voice from behind startled her.

She had not heard her coming. "Edith!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." The blonde chirped but the smile on her face gave away her lie. She walked around the bench and took a seat next to her sister. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Of course you didn't." Mary huffed and was quick to put the book, which she had used as pad, aside, hiding the letter beneath.

"No need to cover up, Mary." Edith glanced. "I already read it anyway. And we both know you're not good at keeping secrets."

"Apparently, I am better at it than you!"

 _Oh,_ Edith thought, _You have no idea…_ But aloud she said: "You are too self-centered to even notice when other people are trying to hide their secrets. Which actually turns out to be good for them."

Mary gritted her teeth, obviously irritated. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I am not—" She stopped herself and rolled her eyes. _Keeping secrets?_ Why was she explaining herself to such a ridiculous, cryptic accusation anyway? "What do you want, Edith?"

"Nothing." The younger sister shrugged. "I was merely curious."

"About?!"

"You." Edith leaned back and deeply inhaled the warm air. It was way past nine o'clock but it was still light and warm outside.

"Could you be anymore unspecific?!" Mary murmured and inhaled, too, but not because she was enjoying the air…

"Well,…" Edith turned her head to look at her sister. _My, how beautiful she looked._ Those chocolate orbs were reflecting the setting sun and the soft evening breeze was gently toying with Mary's hair.

"Well?!" The brunette beauty repeated, obviously growing impatient.

"It's not very like you to disappear into nature after dinner, with only a pen and paper, a smile on your face and a tune on your lips."

Mary wasn't exactly sure where this conversation was headed but she was sure she certainly would not like it. "What's it to you?"

Edith, long used to her sister's defensive and cold attitude, simply shrugged. "Writing letters on a lonely bench at sunset… Very romantic."

And suddenly Mary knew what Edith was implying. Subconsciously, she had known for a while but now it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh, please." Dark eyes gave a signature roll which was her very British way to avoid showing temper. "I really don't need to listen to your Jane Austen fantasies."

Before Edith knew it, Mary was up on her feet, book and letter in hand. "Mary," Edith tried to catch her sister's attention once more and keep her from walking away. "It's alright." But the brunette did not react. She stubbornly stared ahead as she rounded the bench to walk back to the house.

"Mary…" Edith said again, this time a bit more insistent. "Mary!"

" ** _What?!_** " Mary finally barked, swiveling around to stare back at Edith.

"You have feelings for him, don't you?"


End file.
